The Deflowering and Death of Nobody
Woman Found Murdered,
Nobody is suspected in Love Crime
UPI (Dallas)-
A woman was found murdered, last night, outside the Dunkin’ Donuts at 3310 Silverado Parkway. The woman, Alaska Jones age 33, was an activist for the Gay and Lesbian Thespians for Peace, who gained notoriety in the late eighties for burning wigs and creating theatrical scenes outside of state-run cathouses. There is an investigation still pending. There were no witnesses to the crime, and police are on the lookout for Nobody. Dressed in purple suede chaps and red leather cowboy boots, the body was found at approx. 3:10am by one of the Dunkin’ Donuts employees. Police will confirm that two pearl handled pistols were found near the scene. An autopsy performed on Sunday revealed that the victim had large doses of cocaine and chocolate honey-dipped donuts in her bloodstream at the time of her death. At last report, police were following the only lead they had- a trail of applesauce crumbs.
Nobody commits suicide, while cleaning an AK-47. Nobody is an enigma, sworn to allusive behaviors. She likes to be spanked. Nobody is found dead in a Super 8 motel in Davenport, Iowa. She is in the honeymoon suite, sprawled out on the heart shaped bed. There is a note written in what appears to be Nobody’s handwriting: “Separate yourself from me and you’re Nowhere.”
…
Alaska is introduced to Nobody while putting in a ninety-day program at the local asylum, the neighborhood cuckoo nest, your favorite lunatic gallery. The police found her wandering aimlessly down Broadway with nothing but a pair of chaps on, which is how she earned the psychiatric observation vacation. She talked her way into the county psychiatric ward, and that’s how she met Nobody. Handcuffed to a table, anticipating her restroom visit, Alaska is falling asleep into her lap, her head crashing down into her chest, then rocking back and forth.
“They electrocute witches in there, you know. I’ve seen them. Look at their wrists and ankles. Welts where they tie them up. I’ve seen them, I tell you. You don’t want to go in there, I’m telling you.”
Several ladies and gentlemen of the night are shuffling slowly by the wooden bench that Alaska is occupying. Alaska can sight a prostitute at fifty yards. They have that sort of strutting kind of walk that says “I’m for sale.” One of the ladies sitting across from her asks the time.
“What are you in for, sugar?” the lady asks, blinking behind thick layers of mascara.
“They tell me that I have been hurling Molotov cocktails into the front windows of Christian Scientists or Scientific Christians, or something like that.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve heard some pretty strange stories before, but you’re trying to tell me that a cowgirl is throwing explosives, in between shifts as a stripper?”
Alaska laughs at the realization that the woman is talking about her.
“How can you tell that I am stripper?”
“Come on, girl, I can sight one of you show-boatin’ queens a block away.”
“Okay, so I’m a cowgirl strip teaser who struts her stuff in front of the androgyny and misogyny, amidst the wanton madness of the Red Light district, and I’m damned proud of it.” She looks the part, a dominatrix adorned in chaps and holster, a whip, and red leather boots.
“Why can’t I find a man that’ll beat me, who is pretty?”
“That’s how 1 felt the first time I lost my virginity,” says Alaska.
“How was it the second time?” asks the woman.
“Much easier,” giggles Alaska.
Alaska Jones is a frigid born-again virgin, who lives in the dark for most of the year. She had her hymen surgically replaced at her third husband’s request. He died before he got a chance to lick the stitches, but Alaska didn’t mind: she wasn’t into men that much, anyway. He wasn’t a bad guy after all, just a little weak in the heart and knees.
Alaska Jones loves Nobody. A built-to-fail relationship that could last twenty years. They spend a great deal of time looking at one another. Alaska became a compulsive talker after her divorce from husband number two as a way to scream away the depression, which compliments Nobody’s desire to say nothing at all. Nobody has sworn herself to Silence.
Nobody is a Lesbian who likes whips and chains. Her mother gave her the name and denied her, in the same breath. Cursing the birth of her daughter, the vagrant mother died on the delivery table.
“You know you are quite the bizarre individual, if 1 didn’t love you, I would undoubtedly hate you.” says Alaska, “Why do you always have to take things so seriously? I was just kidding. You never get my jokes. Sometimes I wonder if you have a sense of humor at all. You know as well as I do that I have been saving myself for you, for forever. Besides, Nobody fucks men anymore. This is safe sex generation. The entire world is strapped to a phone and video recorder. Are you telling me that you would do a guy, just for the fun and thrill of risking your own life? Get real, girlfriend. You have always been so weird about all that,” continues Alaska with a sigh. “I don’t care if you fuck or not, I just thought you would be interested in seeing how I see the world, but it is obvious that you don’t give a shit how I feel, so go on with your icy glares. I have nothing but time. You are such a bitch sometimes.” Alaska is pretending to be too composed to deal with this kind of insanity. Nobody is staring at her with really demonic expressions of dissatisfaction.
“How is it that every time that I try to have a conversation about this, you stare at me like I am out of my mind? I know that you are trying to convince me of that old thought of romantic love.
One woman, one man, one voice. Oh, yeah, it is still 1969 and you think the Freudian Jungian perspective of sexuality will suffice. Well, let me tell you something, girl, the world has had a revolution or two since the last time you looked down your pants. Try and find yourself in this decade, babe. The faceless purring you hear in the night isn’t Cupid, and his mother has nothing to do with this conversation, but you are going to try and pull apart my words and try and tell me that we are both liars.”
Alaska talks for moments on end. She is an angry woman with a cause. Nobody stands and gazes at her for awhile with a scowl written in neon across her face. Silence works for Nobody, on a part time consultation basis.
After marrying three times in the Eighties, Alaska figures it is time to settle down. She lived in the jowls of death for most of the three years before she met Nobody.
Alaska wants to kill Nobody because Nobody tried to love her. They began slowly as kind of a joke, the beatings. First it was a little crack of the whip on the round white of the ass, then violent kisses began to show themselves as welts and bruises. Nobody’s face became the canvas for Alaska’s pain. Of course, Nobody says a thing or puts up much of a struggle. They continue in a bizarre sort of fashion, hiding from the revealing daylight and the pressure of society. Alaska is an insanely jealous lover.
(November, 1994)
